


I'll Keep You Safe

by TheWhoufflePrincess



Series: Whouffle & Whouffaldi One-Shots [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Echoes of Clara Oswin Oswald, Eleventh Doctor Era, F/M, Fluff, Post-Trenzalore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-15 14:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhoufflePrincess/pseuds/TheWhoufflePrincess
Summary: Talking is good. It helps you understand. Clara and the Doctor both need to talk. Post-Trenzalore.It's more of fluff rather than anything whouffle-y but I suppose it can be seen that way?





	I'll Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not over Whouffle. It's kinda saddening. As I was working on Unconditionally (another gosh darn whouffle fanfiction,) I ended up receiving another idea! Another wHOUFFLE fanfiction that is post-Trenzalore. Plot is lame-ish, but I just wanted some fluff, okaY?

Running, running, running. Just keep _running._ That's all that matters. Run, run, save the Doctor. Forget about yourself.

It had become a general theme in her life to just be running. Running where? Probably to safety, or maybe running to save the Doctor. What she was running from? Clara couldn't tell anymore. These dreams were more vivid than any other measly human dream she's ever had before her life intermingled with the Doctor's. One moment, she's running from some Sontarans who were yelling some unintelligible things. Another moment, she's running from the Gallifreyan guards who had spotted her helping the first Doctor. Some other time she's running from a race she hasn't even encountered. Another time, she's running, protecting a face Clara didn't even know, but all she knew was that they were the Doctor. 

These nightmares always ended up in the same result. Death. With each death, she would wake up. Her forehead would be slick with sweat, her heart racing. She would be met with the dim room on the TARDIS, having to remind herself that she was safe.

Clara chose not to tell the Doctor about this, as he had been worried ever since they had stepped foot out of his time stream. The entire ordeal had probably left him confused and distraught too. She sighed, sitting up and wiping her face with her arm, the sweat sticking onto the skin. 

Clara could feel the TARDIS' disapproval of keeping this from the Doctor just emanating through the walls. 

"Look, I helped you get to him. The least you could do is be quiet about it," she told the box, "Besides, I'm not fragile. I can figure this out myself." In reality, she was really lying to herself. An entire month of these nightmares have been taking a toll on her. She bet the Doctor hadn't noticed, as he was trying to keep his own facade of energy. She sighed, getting out of bed. She felt dehydrated and she bet the Doctor was probably in the console room, so he probably wouldn't find her up at whatever hour it was currently equivalent to. The TARDIS wouldn't lead her to it. She left her bleak room and turned right, goosebumps arising on her skin. She had explored the TARDIS hallways many times when finding her bedroom, but never before had she felt this strange churning feeling of nervousness without an alien threat. 

Clara managed to make it to the kitchen with no problem, only to find the Doctor looking into the fridge, brow furrowed slightly. He didn't have his regular tweed jacket on, which gave him quite the relaxed look. As he contemplated his fridge choices without noticing her, Clara noticed that his bow tie casually hung around his neck loosely and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. He was only wearing socks too.

His composure looked so domestic. Something you don't see everyday with the Doctor, not with his nature. Looking at his face with more detail, it looked as though he had been having trouble sleeping too. Adjusting her crimson sleepwear, she announced her presence with a slight sound from her voice which sounded more like a squeak rather than her clearing her throat, which was something she had planned to do. The Doctor looked up and gave her a weak smile, a stark contrast from his usual aloof nature. Sleep deprivation must really take a toll on the Timelord. And she was led to believe he hardly slept at all due to the fact that whenever she woke up, he'd already be up, dancing around the console or maybe tinkering.

"Hi." He greeted, finally pulling out some fish fingers as his final choice, along with custard. 

"Hi." She responded, taking a seat on a stool near the counter while he prepared his odd meal. "Can't sleep?" She prompted him. He scratched the back of his head, as though he was ashamed.

"Unfortunately, no. Which is strange, because I should be able to." He said, dipping a warm fish finger into the custard and taking a bite as he brought it close to his lips. "Timelord biology and whatnot. I'm supposed to be able to just drop and sleep, if I so desire. It's kind of like a thing I can normally do. It's not working for me, though. Fish finger?" He offered her one and she was originally about to refuse, when her stomach growled lightly. The Doctor raised an invisible eyebrow and she just took the dipped fish finger and took a bite. Oddly enough, the weird combination wasn't that bad.

"Thank you." Clara responded. Underneath the counter, her toes were fidgeting with one another. She wasn't sure why. Normally she could talk to the Doctor with ease.

"I doubt you got any sleep if you're awake now. We got back from our adventure only a couple hours ago." The Doctor said, "Are you alright?" His voice was dripping with concern, as usual. A part of her wanted to say yes, to keep him in the dark. But how long will she be able to keep that up until he found out? She finished her fish finger quietly, debating her answer. Even without looking at him, she could practically hear the gears turning in his mind, probably trying to determine what she might say and how he should respond.

"To be honest, I'm not sure." She admitted, taking another fish finger from the plate and dipping it into the custard. "I'm really not sure."

"It's alright to be unsure." He responded, "I'm unsure about everything I do. I'm unsure about our next adventure. I'm unsure about our safety. I'm unsure about you." Clara looked up from her fish finger and peered into those aged eyes. She couldn't read the emotion in it. Not that she ever was able to.

"About me?" She inquired.

"It feels odd to be, as your mystery was already solved. You jumped into my timestream and fixed all of the Great Intelligence's meddling." He explained, running a hand through his hair. The gesture did nothing to it, but rather made it a little messier. "But I can't help but be so unsure. How could you just...give up your life for me? So carelessly too. You only have one life, or rather...you only have one original Clara Oswald. You, the beautiful original." The question came out soft, the hesitance so prominent. 

"I could ask you the same. I didn't want to be saved." Clara quipped, "You risked your life for me."

"It's my job. I save people. I help people." He responded, as if it was a fact. Clara shook her head.

"People get tired of their jobs eventually. A job someone loves can end up becoming a nightmare." That put an end of their conversation. Another question was in the air, but nobody wanted to take it. They ate in silence, all the way to the last fish finger, the cogs turning in their head. Clara decided to take initiative.

"Do you have nightmares?" She finally asked. Their eyes met once more. Chocolate brown with a beautiful green.

"Yes." His voice was soft, as though he was afraid.

"About?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Everything. You?"

"Everything." She affirmed, her mind considering all the times she had waken to sweat and death. So much death.

"I suppose we are in a predicament." The Doctor murmured. Clara nodded, her fingers fidgeting with one another now as well.

"My mum used to hold me when I had a nightmare." Clara's mouth seemed to have a mind on it's own, the words tumbling out ever so freely. "Sometimes she would have a nightmare too and I would be frightened. The person I looked up to, having the same problem as I? It was a terrifying concept. We'd hold each other, when we both were terrified. She'd always tell me to not be afraid. That advice isn't helping, not anymore." She admitted.

"Would it help if someone held you?" The question was so innocent. Clara smiled, in a bittersweet manner.

"Are you offering?" She asked. The Doctor smiled back to her, picking up the last fish finger and dipping it into the custard.

"I think it would be beneficial." The Doctor said, "For both of us. If you would like of course," He added quickly, the fish finger near his mouth, "I'm not pushing you into it if you don't want to. I just want you safe and protected."

"Alright then, why not?" Her answer brought alarm to him, as he dropped the fish finger into the custard. They watched as it sunk into the creamy substance. The Doctor and Clara shared a glance before bursting out into laughter. The laughter turned to a yawn and the Doctor grinned.

"Alright, Oswald. You need sleep." He went around the counter and held out his hand to her. Clara raised an eyebrow, but she took it without a word. He led her through the TARDIS corridors, pausing at a wooden door. It had beautiful Gallifreyan words in gold carved into the metal door. He opened it and Clara swore she just peered into Gallifrey. The walls were painted like the sky of Gallifrey, the orange hues mixing to create such a beautiful image of the skies from her dreams. The room was pretty bare, besides a king bed with dark blue sheets and a dresser, which seemed to be chock full of papers. Pictures of different men and women were hung around it and Clara could see herself and the Doctor. How did he get that picture of her laughing? She didn't really know.

"Welcome to my room," He said, breaking her thoughts as he led her in. 

"Well, it's bigger than mine." Clara began, her eyes examining the walls and whatnot. The Doctor wrung his hands absentmindedly, watching her look around. After a moment, Clara settled her eyes on the bed, which then, she promptly walked towards and fell down on. "And the bed is definitely softer than mine." She continued, her voice slightly muffled as she spoke against the pillows. The Doctor made his way to the side she was not occupying and gently pulled on the covers. He then went under them, rigid as a stick as he suddenly realized the awkwardness of the very idea of 'cuddling' Clara. 

Clara, on the other hand, was just glad this bed was better than hers on the TARDIS. It felt like she was resting on clouds. The bed was probably the best in the universe- as the Doctor only deserved the greatest. She adjusted herself so she too was underneath the covers and allowed herself to curl up against the Doctor, who still remained still.

"If you're going to sleep, you can't be like that." She murmured into his arm. The Doctor gulped. The warmth that radiated from her body was just so inviting, the Doctor snaked his arm around her waist with hesitation and brought her closer to him, her cheek resting on his chest. Clara's arm went across the Doctor's belly, hugging him. How easily it was for them to fall into this sense of security without any difficulty. The Doctor, not even telling his body to sleep, felt his eyes getting heavy. He could feel her chest rising and falling at a slow pace, indicating that she had fallen asleep. She too, probably felt this sense of security neither of them had felt in a while, not after Trenzalore. He didn't even realize it, but he fell into one of the first of many comforting sleep cycles, holding Clara close to him under the gaze of the painted sky.

**Author's Note:**

> aGH this is so bad but I was just craving whouffle, yikes.


End file.
